


Flowers For Angels

by Mintey



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Flowers, Harry Hart Lives, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-03-31 01:51:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3959920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mintey/pseuds/Mintey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a young man in an ill-fitted suit that has been stealing flowers from Harry's garden</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flowers For Angels

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of [this](http://awful-aus.tumblr.com/post/116941769918/awful-au-196) tumblr prompt.
> 
> It isn't Harry that dies, fyi - in case the tags didn't make that clear. Just needed to clarify, in case anyone was worried!

"Mr. Hart! Mr. Hart!" 

Harry stops fumbling with his keys and looks up at the sound of his name. He sees Miss Amelia, his next-door neighbor, hurrying down the cobblestone path to meet him on his front step. He's met her a few times, never more than a quick hello and a polite how-do-you-do, so the interaction piques his interest.

"Miss Amelia, good to see you," he says, giving her a polite smile.

"Please, just Amelia is fine, I've told you that a hundred times," replies the woman. 

Miss Amelia tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. She gives Harry a sly smile and bites her lip, looking as if there's something she wants to say. If Harry hadn't seen the same chestnut-haired woman leaving Miss Amelia's house each morning for the past week, he would have interpreted her actions as flirting. He shifts awkwardly and places his hands in his pockets while he decides what to say next. Harry clears his throat, intending to begin small talk, when Miss Amelia suddenly blurts out an excited sentence.

"Why didn't you tell me you were seeing somebody, Mr. Hart!" she gushes. "He's simply adorable, I can see why you like him. A bit younger than you, though."

Harry stares at her in confusion. He has absolutely no idea what Miss Amelia is talking about, seeing as the last man to visit his house was Merlin, and that was weeks ago. 

Miss Amelia must interpret Harry's confusion as concern, because her eyes widen and she hastily places a hand on his arm, and quickly adds, "But that's alright! As long as you two get along, that's what matters."

Glancing down at where Miss Amelia is still touching his arm, Harry says, "I'm sorry, Miss Amelia, but I don't have a boyfriend. You must be mistaking me with someone else."

"No need to be coy, Mr. Hart," says Miss Amelia, with a giggle. She drops her tone to a whisper as she says, "I know some folks around here are a bit judgmental, but I've got a girlfriend of my own, you see. Her name's Roxy. I'd like you to meet her sometime if that's alright."

"I suppose that can be arranged," Harry says, choosing his words carefully. He toys with the keys in his pocket, trying to figure out what boyfriend she had been referring to.

"Good, I'll stop by sometime and we can pick a date!"

Harry tries not to visibly cringe at Miss Amelia's excitement - she's a wonderful lady, and her girlfriend seems nice enough, from what little Harry has seen of her, but he isn't looking forward to diffusing the matter of his nonexistent boyfriend. He decides that the more details he can gather about Miss Amelia's encounter, the better, because then he can at least try and find a replacement. Or, simply make up an excuse for why his "boyfriend" isn't present. Perhaps he'll even conveniently break up with said non-existent boyfriend. That would work splendidly. Except, then he'd have to deal with the sympathetic looks and awkward consolations. Harry is torn.

Luckily, Miss Amelia's enthusiasm saves the day as she says, "You can even bring Eggsy! I just know him and Roxy will get along fabulously."

Eggsy.

Harry doesn't know anyone named Eggsy, nor does it even sound like a real name, so his mind is left boggling at Miss Amelia's statement. He briefly entertains the idea that James stopped by to try and drag him out drinking, only to toy with Miss Amelia instead. Although, James probably wouldn't risk Percival finding out about his misbehavior, so perhaps it wasn't James after all. He decides to come right out and ask Miss Amelia about the encounter.

"If you don't mind my asking, how exactly did you meet... Eggsy?" asks Harry.

"Oh! He was in your garden, picking flowers," says Miss Amelia. "Shoot! I probably wasn't supposed to tell you that. Act surprised if he drops by with flowers for your date tonight, alright?"

"Yes, of course," Harry agrees. He's only partly playing along, because if a man really does drop by with flowers tonight, Harry won't just be _acting_ surprised.

"Anyway, I've got to run, catch you later, Mr. Hart!"

With that, Miss Amelia is off, walking hastily down the road and giving a quick wave over her shoulder when she reaches the end of the street. Harry stands at his door for a moment, still confused by the encounter with his neighbor. Harry shakes his head, wondering what the hell just happened. He peeks into the small patch of flowers to the left of his door. Sure enough, a few are missing - not enough to make a dent in the garden, or even enough to be noticeable at a glance, but missing nevertheless. 

Harry gives a small, "huh," before pulling his keys out and opening his door. 

He pushes the encounter to the back of his mind, preferring to bury himself in his work and occasionally allow his friends to take him out for a night at the pub. In fact, by the end of the week, he's entirely forgotten about the conversation entirely. Although, it is possible that this has less to do with his busy schedule, and more to do with James's insistence last night that, "One more shot won't hurt, Harry."

Harry is going to  _kill_ James, he decides, stumbling through his front door at the early hour of five o'clock in the morning. He manages to make his way to the kitchen and pour himself a glass of water. Only a little bit spills onto the floor, Harry notes, proud of his drunken coordination. He doesn't trust himself to wipe it up now, though, so he makes his way to the bathroom, water in hand, to brush his teeth and get ready for bed. ( _Bed? Seriously, Harry? It's five am, how did you let James talk you into this_.) 

He catches movement outside the window, and figures it to be one of his neighbors. Mindlessly completing the task at hand, Harry drains his glass of water, returns to the kitchen to place it in the dishwasher, and troops up the stairs, managing to only trip once. He is in the midst of getting undressed, when curiosity bests him, and he heads out to the balcony, shirtless and only wearing a pair of boxers. Later, he will blame his actions on the alcohol still muddling his brain, but for now, Harry finds it a perfectly good idea.

Leaning slightly over the railing, Harry catches a glimpse of a person standing near his garden. He squints a little, vision blurring slightly when the rush of blood to his head at the angle makes him nauseous. From up here, Harry can't tell much - just that there's a young man in an ill-fitted suit stealing flowers from Harry's garden. Miss Amelia's earlier remarks come flooding back to him, and Harry would be tempted to confront the man then and there, if not for the sudden lurch in his stomach. Harry backs up from the railing and attempts to regain his composure. 

Head throbbing, Harry shuts his balcony doors and falls into bed, eager to sleep off his sorry state and promising to deal with the issue of the flower thief later.

The incident happens several more times over the course of the next few weeks - the appearance of the flower thief, that is, not the drinking. Harry has had enough drinking with James for one lifetime, thank you very much. Plus, Percival has to have James under strict supervision at this point, if James's own sorry state the other night and Percival's irritated expression was anything to go by.

Harry catches glimpses of the young man as time goes on - Eggsy, as he recalls from Miss Amelia's story - and he has to admit, he is handsome. It makes Harry wonder what Eggsy could possibly be doing stealing flowers from his garden. He continues to ponder what Eggsy's agenda is, adding in new details every time he sees the young man. 

For starters, Eggsy is always wearing that same horrid suit. Harry is tempted to take him to his tailors and get the man fitted properly, but he thinks that would be a bit out of line - more so than merely plucking flowers from a stranger's garden. He satisfies himself with the knowledge that at least Eggsy is always wearing oxfords, not brogues, shined to perfection despite the often muddy weather. Sometimes Eggsy brings something else with him - a book, a sheet of paper (perhaps a letter), and on one occasion, a loyal little pug, trotting obediently at Eggsy's heels. A few times, Harry even caught Eggsy checking his appearance in the reflection of Harry's front window, running a hand through his hair and smoothing down the stray pieces. 

The more Harry thinks about it, the more and more he begins to suspect that Eggsy is trying to impress someone. A girl, perhaps. He has to admit, he's become quite fond of the young man over the times he's visited, and yes, Miss Amelia was right, he is attractive. Harry just hopes the girl is good enough to be deserving of Eggsy's affections.

 

* * *

 

Harry still isn't sure what makes him confront Eggsy for the first time. One moment, he's catching a glimpse of Eggsy picking flowers outside his window, and the next he's stepping out onto his front step, staring a very startled Eggsy in the face. He debates going back inside, leaving Eggsy the opportunity to leave, and himself the opportunity to forget this whole incident never happened, but ultimately he stands his ground.

Eggsy freezes in place, two flowers in hand and reaching for a third, apology already on his lips. Harry tries not to stare, he really does, but those pink lips just look so pretty as they gape open, trying to find the right words to say. He pulls his gaze away, focusing instead on Eggsy's gorgeous eyes - not much better, but at least eye contact is normal. Closing the door behind him, Harry decides to take pity on Eggsy.

"Eggsy," he begins.

Before Harry can continue, Eggsy cuts him off. "How the fuck do you know my name?"

Slightly startled by Eggsy's outburst, Harry takes a moment to compose himself. He smooths down his tie and stands up straighter. "Miss Amelia kindly informed me that she had met my boyfriend while he was picking flowers," he says, raising an eyebrow.

Eggsy at least has the decency to look ashamed. "Right, I can explain-"

"No need," Harry says. "I just wanted to-"

"Wait a minute," interrupts Eggsy. His features are pinched in thought and he points a finger at Harry. "That was  _weeks_ ago. You telling me that you've just been watching me for weeks and you ain't said nothing?" 

The accusation stops Harry in his tracks. He furrows his brow. "How did you know I've been watching you?"

Eggsy grins, apparently glad to have caught Harry off guard. "You ain't as sneaky as you think, bruv. I can see you through the windows." He stands up, plucks the third flower, and crosses his arms, careful not to crush the flowers as he waits for Harry's response.

Harry just splutters.

"It's alright, I think you're pretty cute too," says Eggsy with a wink.

"Don't you have a girlfriend?" Harry blurts before he can stop himself.

"What?"

"The suit, the flowers, checking your reflection in the window -  _yes,_ I saw that too," says Harry, holding up a hand to stop Eggsy's protests. "You're quite obviously trying to impress someone."

"Look, it ain't what you think."

"This is an awful lot of effort to go through for one girl."

"Yeah, I'm not..." Eggsy trails off.

"I'd just like to console myself with the knowledge that she's good enough to warrant the ransacking of my garden."

"There ain't no- hang on." Pausing mid-thought, Eggsy stares at Harry in disbelief. "So... you ain't going to call the cops or nothing?"

"No."

"And you just want to meet... her. Yeah?"

There's a strange tone to Eggsy's voice, and his voice catches on the word "her." Harry briefly wonders why, but decides it's none of his business. "Yes."

Biting his lip, Eggsy says, "Alright. She's... a real angel." He continues to stand there, making no move to start along the way. Harry stares at Eggsy expectantly, and Eggsy stares right on back. Eggsy's eyes widen, and he says, "Shit, you mean right now?"

Harry doesn't reply. He just locks his door, starts down the road, and calls over his shoulder, "C'mon."

The sound of footsteps echoes through the courtyard as Eggsy runs to catch up. Eggsy takes a right at the end of the road, and Harry follows, moving to walk to the right of Eggsy. He can feel Eggsy's eyes on him, no doubt sizing him up, probably trying to think of some way to deter Harry from tagging along.

"You got a first name, Mr. Hart?" says Eggsy eventually.

Harry spares a glance at Eggsy. "I see you've been talking to Miss Amelia, then."

"That ain't an answer."

"Harry. Harry Hart."

Eggsy quirks the corner of his mouth into a smile. He runs his eyes over Harry's body before nodding his head at the intersection ahead. "Cross the street up here." Eggsy continues to study Harry, watching everything from the way he walks to the way he puts his right hand in his pocket.

"What exactly have you been telling my neighbors, Eggsy?"

They walk side by side in silence for a bit, the only noise being the sound of the occasional passing car or bird flying overhead. Eggsy rubs at the back of his neck, a nervous motion no doubt. "Not much. Just that you're my boyfriend."

"Ah."

"Although, I would've said a lot more if I'd known you was so hot," says Eggsy. 

Harry resists the urge to roll his eyes at Eggsy's remark. Partly because he's a grown man, and such behavior in public is unbecoming, and partly because deep down, he kind of likes the idea of flirting with him. Harry holds off on replying until they've both safely crossed the busy road, and then says, "Perhaps I should be less concerned with the suitability of your date and more concerned by your flirtations. Some would call that cheating, you know."

"Right... about that."

"There isn't a girl, is there, Eggsy?" Harry asks.

Harry has been paying attention to their direction as they walked, and they've been heading increasingly farther from the housing districts of town. He's about to accuse Eggsy of something - perhaps trying to prevent Harry from meeting his date, or perhaps just trying to lose Harry entirely - but Eggsy beats him to it.

"No." His face is solemn as he says it, but morphs into a sly grin as he adds, "There ain't no boy, either."

Harry doesn't respond, just presses his lips into a flat line. They make another turn, and spend a few moments with neither man saying a word. It's Eggsy who breaks the silence.

"We're here."

To their right stand the gates to the town cemetery. Harry tilts his head back to look up at the head of the gate, and turns back to Eggsy. "After you."

Eggsy hangs his head ever so slightly as he walks in first, navigating the various winding paths with ease. Harry follows at a step behind, giving Eggsy the opportunity to stop at any time. Suddenly, this all seems to personal to Harry, and he feels as if he's intruding upon a private moment. He notices Eggsy square off his shoulders and fix his posture, standing up straighter as he slows, and comes to a stop. Harry pauses a few feet behind Eggsy, giving the young man his space.

From where he stands, Harry can read the name, "Lee Unwin," scrawled across the tombstone. There's a pile of flowers, some fresher than others, sitting in front of the headstone. Just like that, it clicks into place, and everything makes sense. There had never been a girl, or boy, for Eggsy. The flowers had been for Lee. Lee Unwin, who had died in 1997 - Eggsy couldn't have been more than a child. Harry's breath catches and he's so taken with the overwhelming urge to comfort Eggsy that he nearly misses the young man's words.

"Hey... Dad."

Harry watches Eggsy's face fall slightly as he speaks, turning more and more somber. He steps forward and places a hand on Eggsy's shoulder. "Oh, Eggsy..." he says quietly. "I'm so sorry."

Eggsy nods his acknowledgement. "It's alright, you didn't know. I should've told you."

"No, the fault is all mine. I didn't mean to intrude."

Harry tightens his hand on Eggsy's shoulder in a brief squeeze before withdrawing it entirely. He turns to leave, but Eggsy catches him by the wrist. Harry stares at the way Eggsy's fingers wind around his wrist. He meets Eggsy's eyes.

"Stay," says Eggsy. "Please?"

Slowly, Harry nods. Eggsy gives him a hesitant smile and pulls Harry gently forward by his wrist.

"Dad, I'd like you to meet Harry," Eggsy says. "He's the one who's been nice enough to let me steal his flowers." He gives a sad laugh. "Mum's always telling me about how you used to pluck the flowers from her mum's garden and say you'd bought them at the shops. Guess I might be taking after you, after all."

Harry listens as Eggsy proceeds to tell his father about his week, throwing in anecdotes of the trouble he'd gotten into, subconsciously drooping his shoulders as he makes the admissions. He talks about the baby, telling his father that she'd taken her first steps this week, and saying how much his father would have liked her.

Harry pretends not to notice the tears that well up in Eggsy's eyes as he says, "I've got to go now, but... I love you, Dad. Always have, always will."

Blinking away the wetness in his eyes, Eggsy spins on his heel and tilts his head for Harry to follow. Neither man says a word for the entire walk back to Harry's house. Harry tries to speak to Eggsy when they reach his street, but Eggsy just shakes his head.

"Look, I'm sorry, for everything. I'll just... I'll just go."

Harry can't bear to watch, so he drags himself back to his house and consoles himself with the knowledge that Eggsy is nothing if not consistent: he'll have the chance to ask the younger man out next week.

 

* * *

 

Two weeks pass without a single visit from Eggsy. Initially, Harry thought that Eggsy might have changed the hours he visited, but he soon noticed that no flowers had recently gone missing from his flowerbed. He even went so far as to take a few days off, sitting at his kitchen table and hoping to catch a glimpse of the familiar movement he had grown so fond of. There was none.

After a third week with no Eggsy, he even resorts to confronting Miss Amelia. He knocks on her door late one afternoon, fidgeting with his signet ring as he waits for her to open the door. Instead of Miss Amelia, however, is the chestnut-haired woman. She grins brightly.

"You must be Mr. Hart," she says, sticking her hand out. "I'm Roxanne, but call me Roxy."

Harry takes the offered hand, and shaking it, says, "Terribly sorry, Miss Roxy, but is Miss Amelia around?"

"It's just Roxy," corrects Miss Roxy, "But yes, she's around here somewhere."

As Miss Roxy is speaking, Miss Amelia comes up behind her and pecks the woman on the cheek. "You're never going to be able to get him to drop the Miss," she says to her girlfriend. Turning to Harry, Miss Amelia says, "Mr. Hart, finally decided to take us up on that dinner invitation?"

"Actually, I was wondering if you'd seen Eggsy lately."

"Eggsy?" interrupts Miss Roxy. Her eyes travel up and down Harry's body, and he gets the impression she's sizing him up.

"That's Mr. Hart's boyfriend, babe," Miss Amelia says.

Harry frowns at the term.  _Not yet_ , he wants to add, but he can't very well explain the whole predicament to Miss Amelia, so he remains silent. 

"Eggsy Unwin?" Miss Roxy asks, studying Harry suspiciously. "Your first name wouldn't happen to be Harry, would it?"

"That it is," says Harry hesitantly. 

Miss Roxy stares with narrowed eyes at Harry. "So  _you're_ the one he's been going on about."

"I beg your pardon?"

"He won't stop gushing about this handsome posh older bloke - he's been doing it for months. Except now he has a name for the man - he calls him Harry, which I assume is you - and he's been moping about the past couple of weeks. Even poor little JB is starting to get depressed, and that dog never runs out of energy," she says. "So, please fix my Eggsy. I don't want to have to listen to another Christina Perry song for the rest of my life."

Harry quickly tries to hide his shock. "Right. Of course. I'll... I'll try my best."

"And don't come back until you do," says Miss Roxy, slamming the door in his face.

From behind the door, he can hear Miss Amelia's surprised laughter and her exclaiming, "I can't believe you just slammed the door in Mr. Hart's face!"

Harry spends a moment gawking at the closed door. "I can see why Miss Amelia likes her," he mumbles to himself, before turning his back on the door and heading to the one place he can count on Eggsy showing up.

The graveyard is empty when Harry shows up, much to his disappointment. He stands for a moment at Lee's grave, but begins to feel uncomfortable without Eggsy by his side. He sighs and takes a seat on the patch of grass in front of the grave, telling himself that he can always get his suit dry-cleaned. Feeling like a small child sitting like this, Harry racks his brain for something to do other than stare up at the clouds. So, he does what Eggsy would do, and begins to talk.

"Hello, Mr. Unwin," Harry begins. "I'm not sure if you remember me, but my name is Harry Hart. We met a few weeks back. Your son has grown into quite the young man." Still slightly unsure of himself, he stops. Harry deliberates for a moment, then says, "He might not always do the right thing, but the good intentions are there."

Harry finds himself spilling his guts to Mr. Unwin's grave, talking about his observations of Eggsy from the short time they've known each other, and what little information Amelia has shared with him as well. He tells Mr. Unwin about Eggsy's little pug, knowing Eggsy must have brought the dog to meet his father at some point. And the more he talks, the more he finds himself avoiding what he really wants to say. Harry bites his lip. He forces himself to continue.

"I think you would be proud of him." He pauses, takes a deep breath, and continues. "And with your permission, I would like to take your son out on a date."

Harry isn't expecting an answer, of course, so he startles when he gets one.

"I think he would like that."

Shielding his eyes from the sun, Harry peers up at Eggsy's shadowed figure. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough," says Eggsy, offering Harry a hand. He helps Harry to stand up, and Harry occupies himself by brushing the dirt off his bottom. Eggsy cracks another one of his pleased grins. "So, you want to date me, eh?"

"If you aren't opposed to the idea." 

Eggsy beams at Harry and grabs Harry's hand. "Sorry, Dad, I'm going to have to reschedule," he says. "I've got a hot date." Eggsy starts to lead Harry along, but Harry remains rooted firmly in place.

"Are you sure?" asks Harry. "I don't mind waiting, if you want to stay."

Shrugging, Eggsy says, "Nah, that's enough for today, don't you think?"

"Well, something is missing," Harry says, staring at the bare headstone. Eggsy shoots him a questioning glance. "Mind if we pop by later this week?"

"Sure," Eggsy says quizzically. 

 

* * *

 

Later that week, Eggsy is once again tugging Harry by the hand as they visit the graveyard together for the third time. Harry offers Eggsy a hesitant smile, stepping forward to place a bundle of flowers on Lee's grave, freshly plucked from the garden in front of his house. Eggsy moves to do the same. Both men straighten back up, and Eggsy clasps Harry's hand in both of his own.

"Dad, I'd like you to meet my boyfriend."

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr at [eggsyunwinhart](http://eggsyunwinhart.tumblr.com)!


End file.
